


Gleaming eyes and wiggling tails

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, M/M, Mentions of Smut, SO MUCH FLUFF, a bit of crack, a dog - Freeform, a silly little something, estabilished relationship - Freeform, i'm awkward, like.. a bit of funny stuff, lovesick fools, mentions of angst, mentions of drug use, not drug crack, redbeard's legacy, teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 03:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8781673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which John gets a little bit jealous because his boyfriend is giving their dog all of his attention, but it doesn't matter because they're both pathetically happy and in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome!

The John Watson of a couple of years before, faced with the perspective of whatever future profiling at his crooked, faded horizon, would probably only have been able to think of two or three possibilities. He could have still been suicidal and numb as he was then, could have bloomed into an alcoholic just like his sister, he could even not have been alive anymore, but surely he would never have expected a curly haired, piercing eyed, unbelievable, ridiculous miracle disguised as a human being to come crashing into his life, making it way more dangerous than it had been even on the battlefield and happier than he often thought he deserved.  
Because that was what Sherlock actually was to him. In his own bizarre way, with all his -admittedly numerous- flaws and the uncountable virtues, with the rudeness and the softness and the way he cared about him more than he did with anyone else, with the spastic, violent switching between hyperactivity and brooding, the seemingly careless way he kept throwing him into things that were miles out of his comfort zone, Sherlock was the greatest blessing he could ever have asked for.  
So no, being asked if he had ever expected to be at the complete mercé of the world's most famous -only- consulting detective, loving and being loved so entirely, wholly and yes, maybe not perfectly, but in the most complete and sincere way, he never would have expected it just as much as he wouldn't have expected that man being stole from him by an obnoxious, hyperexcited Red Setter puppy, and actually having to struggle for his attention.  
"Ah, clever boy! You really are the smartest dog in the whole wide world. Who is the smartest little boy in the whole wide world? Yes, exactly, you are!"  
Sherlock was almost squealing, raising the puppy in the air and going on and on with the most annoying baby talk ever produced by a human being, and John's eye twitched by reflex.  
He spared Sherlock his bitterness, though, because he was gleaming with happiness and John could stand an entire army of baby dogs competing against him for Sherlock's love as long as his eyes would keep shimmering like that.  
"You know, statistically speaking it would be impossible for him to be the smartest dog in the whole wide world even if he didn't just pick a fight with a plastic bag laying around - and lose."  
Sherlock didn't even turn to look at him, too intent on settling the pup carefully on his lap.  
"Well, you did lose a battle to a chip and PIN machine once, didn't you? And that kind of things is made to simplify a man's life, so in some sort of way he isn't the smartest dog in the whole wide world, but he is smarter than you."  
John's brows furrowed and he didn't even have time to voice the enormous offense he took at those words when Sherlock started talking lightly and quietly to the little dog, gently cupping his face and petting his ears back, so delicately that the pup's eyes fell shut and the tip of his tongue rested out of his mouth between the teeth, in that dumb, goofy expression Sherlock so deeply cherished.  
"You fought against a big, frightening, translucent monster and you haven't been scared, not even for a moment, and daddy is so proud of you. You're brave and plucky, just like papa John."  
John was partially still offended, partially melted in a mush of lovestruck goo, partially thankful to every god that there might be out there for not having a daddy kink going with Sherlock and partially just utterly weirded out by the naturalness Sherlock had said those things with.  
He just settled for rolling his eyes and really, if the dumb man he so unfortunately happened to be head over heels for kept that on, they would end up being stuck in that position.  
Sherlock didn't bother to look up from the puppy, didn't even change the timber of his voice when he whispered back at John's heartfelt eye roll.  
"For as much as people somehow find that kind of sentiment a sort of endearing demonstration of valuing a relationship, you should really stop being jealous of our dog, John."  
John blinked a few times. There was no point in trying to spare his dignity from that affirmation with a witty retort because point A, every kind of remark in a situation like that would have only helped digging the hole of embarrassment even deeper under his feet, point B, Sherlock could read people impeccably and knew that denying something was often the highest form of confirmation and point C, he was perfectly and absolutely right.  
So he settled for tangling his fingers over his lap, sprawling more comfortably on the armchair to be a little more assertive on his position.  
He clicked his tongue, then spoke.  
"I haven't gotten laid in weeks. My dick is about to fall off. You need to admit that I have point."  
Sherlock rose an eyebrow.  
"Well, try to understand, John. He's still a baby! Plus, he needs constant attention and he can't understand why it's not being given to him."  
John tilted his head.  
"So does my dick."  
Sherlock huffed a laughter and then turned again to the dog.  
"Your papa's brain can only handle one thing at a time and unfortunately it's always the same one.."  
"If you think that making fun of me while talking to our dog is going to get me out of the mood you're very wrong, because it's actually turning me on."  
Sherlock burst out laughing at that, startling the puppy from his half-slumber and making him start whining. The man scooped him up and cuddled him until he started barking happily, licking and gnawing on his fingertips. John couldn't remember despising a creature more while Sherlock couldn't help leaning in and kissing his head, only vaguely noticing John switching positions from the armchair to the couch next to him.  
"Oh, really? Is that all it takes?"  
And then he was chewing gracelessly the fingers of Sherlock's free hand.  
"Okay, come on. Kiss me."  
Sherlock giggled, a low, thundering rumble low in his throat, then leaned in and pecked him on the nose.  
"That's it? I'm starving for attention, Sherlock. You work like a madman every time you get the chance and the exact second you stop working you throw yourself on that bloody dog."  
Sherlock cocked his head to the side and nuzzled John's neck, breathing in his scent and smiling lightly against hot skin.  
"You know I would never give you up for a dog, right? A dog is much less of help during investigations, even if, well, if it's trained in the right way.."  
John looked at him darkly under knitted eyebrows and that made him immediately withdraw what he said.  
"But I'm wandering off, sorry. I meant to say that I would never prefer a dog over you for this and many other reasons, for example that going around talking to a man is less frownable upon than talking to a dog on a leash, and also I can't do this with a dog.."  
Purred, evidently trying to be seductive when he moved just enough to capture John's lips with his own, kissing him slowly and sensually, while John stared the wall in front of him with a raised eyebrow. When Sherlock parted with a smacking sound and a satisfied smirk, John still had that expression on his face, to which the other man answered with a confused jerk of his eyebrows and head, and John said:  
"In a regular context, I would have sarcastically asked you if I'm supposed to be flattered by that, but I'm honestly so desperate that I'll shut up."  
Sherlock frowned.  
"Oh, yes. Also I love you really, really much. Keep forgetting to mention that part, but it's unnecessary to keep saying something that should be entirely obvious by now."  
John lost himself a few moments, too busy taking in the man in front of him. His eyes were gleaming again, with pure, total happiness, like he knew there wasn't any other destination he was supposed to reach - and he was right. Plump lips stretched in a smile that was painfully genuine. The set of lumpy syringe punctures that were constellating his inner elbow when they first met was either scarifying or fading into silky white skin. His heart was beating, his skin was glowing and they were both so incredibly happy that they started to think that maybe there wasn't a quest to undertake, a value to prove, something to demonstrate to deserve it. Maybe happiness had hitching breath and fluttering lashes and hugged them, melting in between each of their kisses.


End file.
